Houses Competition Story Collection
by EvasiveMuse
Summary: Series of one-shots for the Houses Competition with various characters and themes. Each chapter is a different prompt. Canon pairings including Harry/Ginny, James/Lily, and Remus/Tonks.
1. Princess

A/N: This is my drabble using the Princess prompt.

Princess Potter

"Daddy! Daddy! Wake up!" a muffled voice shouted as tiny fists pounded on Harry and Ginny's bedroom door.

Harry groaned and reached an arm across the bed, but was disappointed to find it empty. He figured Ginny must have gotten up early to make breakfast. He slowly sat up and glanced at the door, which Lily continued to knock on insistently, then at the clock. He sighed as he saw that he had only gotten five hours of sleep after returning home late from his mission in America. Though he was exhausted, he knew he could not fall back asleep now. Besides, he had missed his family desperately, especially his little princess who was still shouting at him to get up. He grinned and waved his wand at the door to open it, bracing himself for the fiery six-year-old that bounded into the room. Lily launched herself onto the bed and climbed on Harry's lap. She giggled happily as he wrapped his arms tightly around her, raining kisses all over her face.

"How's my princess?" Harry asked, hugging her close before pulling her back to get a good look at her. It had only been a week since he last saw her, but he still hated to miss any time with his family. He loved his job, but he always felt like he missed so much while he was away.

"Mummy and I had the whole house to ourselves yesterday! We played dress up and made biscuits," she informed him eagerly.

"Did you save any for me?" Harry replied.

"Maybe…" She gave him a sly look that reminded him so much of her mother.

"Maybe? Well, if you won't tell me I'll just have to…" he trailed off and started tickling her stomach, sending her into an uncontrollable fit of giggles.

"Okay…okay! We…saved you…some," she capitulated between gasps of laughter.

"Good!" He stopped tickling and hugged her close again. She squirmed around so that she could plant a sloppy kiss on his cheek.

"I missed you, Daddy. Don't go away again. Please?" she begged, looking up at him with her big brown eyes that never failed to make him melt.

"I missed you too, princess. I'm going to have to go away again eventually, but not for a while," he promised. She pouted and snuggled closer into his chest.

"I guess that's okay," she sulked.

"I'll make it up to you, I promise. Now, enough moping! Let's go see about breakfast, shall we?" She scrambled off his lap and jumped down from the bed, grabbing his hand to bring him with her.

They reached the kitchen, where Ginny was standing at the stove cooking bacon and eggs. She turned as they entered and smiled.

"Morning, love. Sorry for the early wake-up call; I tried to keep her occupied but she just had to see her Daddy," Ginny said, grinning indulgently at their daughter.

"That's alright. I wanted to see my princess, too," Harry replied. He kissed her, lingering for just a moment before reluctantly turning to get Lily settled at the table. "Where are the boys?"

"Oh, they're spending the weekend with Ron and Hermione," she answered.

"Bless them. Probably didn't know what they were getting themselves into, especially with James," Harry chuckled.

"Well, at least they didn't have this one, too," she replied, nodding towards Lily. "Then they really would have been in trouble."

"Too right," Harry laughed, ruffling Lily's hair. She scowled at him.

"I'm not trouble. I'm a princess!" she declared, folding her arms.

"Princesses can get into trouble, too," Harry said.

"I don't get into trouble! Trouble finds me," she pouted while Harry and Ginny burst into laughter.

"Merlin, that sounds familiar! Must run in the family," Ginny said, smirking at Harry. He stuck his tongue out at her.

"I was hoping not to pass on that particular trait," Harry responded ruefully.

"Were you trouble, Daddy?" Lily asked.

"Princess, you have no idea," he replied, shaking his head as Ginny snorted behind him.

"What if I get into lots of trouble, Daddy, will I still be a princess?" she asked seriously. He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her cheek.

"You will always be my princess," he affirmed, running a hand through her wild red tangles of hair. "Just try not to get into _too_ much trouble, okay?"

"Okay," she agreed happily.


	2. Fly With Me

A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Short story | Prompt: "Fly with me," | Word Count: 1,615

"Fly with me," Ginny demanded brightly as she grabbed Harry's hand and pulled him off the common room sofa. Harry couldn't help but smile at her exuberance.

"Didn't you say you needed to study for your O.W.L.'s today? Not that I'm complaining…I just don't need another lecture from Hermione about how selfish I am for keeping you from your studies," he said, grinning. She rolled her eyes.

"A break won't kill me. I'd hate to waste such a nice day," she lilted, batting her eyelashes exaggeratedly.

"You don't have to convince me, Gin. You can save the theatrics for Hermione," he laughed.

"Brilliant!" she exclaimed happily and proceeded to tug him through the portrait hole and down to the Quidditch pitch.

They mounted their brooms, kicked off, and with a quick glance at each other they began to race across the pitch. Harry felt the tension leave his body as the wind whipped through his hair. He savored these moments with Ginny when he could be free, if only briefly, from the heavy weight of Voldemort and his horcruxes.

"Is that the best you can do?" Ginny taunted, smirking back at him. He had begun to lag behind, happy to admire Ginny as she flew ahead, but at her comment he sped up to match her pace.

"Not a chance," he whispered as he flew close to her before taking off and leaving her to chase him.

"You're on, Potter!" she shouted with a delighted laugh before tearing after him.

* * *

"Fly with me."

Harry was sitting in the tall grass behind the Burrow, head in his hands. He had not heard Ginny approach, but at her words he looked up to find her standing before him, her hands pulling at the frayed sleeves of her oversized sweater. A cool breeze whispered through the trees and ruffled Harry's already messy hair as he studied her. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but he figured his probably looked the same. Everyone's eyes held such sadness these days. She raised her eyebrows and held a steady hand out to him. He took it and offered her a tired smile, which she returned. They walked in comfortable silence to the broom shed, but when Ginny reached for her broom, Harry shook his head.

"Let's share mine," he suggested as he mounted his broom.

She smiled warmly and nodded before climbing on and wrapping her arms tightly around him. He took off and cruised leisurely around the makeshift pitch behind the Burrow, the crisp night air helping to clear his head. Ginny tucked her head into his neck and he smiled contentedly as he felt her lips press against his skin. He turned his head slightly so he could meet her eyes, and in that moment, he knew they understood each other perfectly. No words were needed to express their sadness for the past, worry for the future, or their present joy to simply be alive and together. Harry knew that they would have plenty of challenges to face in the morning, between the remaining free Death Eaters and the funerals they had yet to attend, but he couldn't stop the feeling that everything would be alright as long as Ginny was by his side.

* * *

"Fly with me!" Harry was awakened by Ginny's exasperated voice and an impatient yet gentle pinch on his arm.

"'S too early, Gin…go back to sleep," he replied groggily, tightening his arms around her and burying his face further into her neck.

"It's never too early for a nice fly with my _husband_ ," she enthused.

Despite having been married for nearly two months, she still put heavy emphasis on the word 'husband' every time she said it, which was quite often. Harry felt himself smiling despite himself and he pulled his face back to meet her bright brown eyes. His heart warmed as he took in the excited hopefulness written all over her face and he knew he could never say no to any request she made when she looked at him like that. Something in his expression must have given this away, for she emitted a victorious shout and scrambled off the bed, pulling him with her.

"Ha! I knew you'd say yes," she gloated.

"Technically, I haven't said anything," he responded wryly, still smiling. She pinched his arm lightly again.

"You know what I mean," she huffed as they both began dressing for the day.

"We are eating breakfast first, right?" Harry asked. She looked at him as if he had sprouted two heads.

"Harry. I may be a Potter now, but I am also still a Weasley, which means breakfast—and every other meal, for that matter—is still sacred. Of course, we're eating breakfast first!"

"Just checking," he laughed. "You seemed so eager to get out and fly I thought you had forgotten."

"I would _never_ forget about breakfast," she replied seriously, but he saw her fighting to keep the corners of her mouth from turning up.

"Well let's get to it then! We're wasting prime flying hours," he said as they hurried down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"Well, if _someone_ had woken up earlier, we could've been out there by now," she grumbled. He brushed her off.

"Toast and eggs?" he asked.

"Perfect!" She beamed at him as he prepared breakfast.

As soon as they finished eating, they sent their dishes to the sink and raced out the door to collect their brooms. Ginny was the first in the air and he watched her appreciatively for a moment before taking off after her. Not for the first time, he thanked whatever power had brought them together. Moments like these were exactly what they had fought so hard for, and he was grateful to share them all with her.

* * *

"Fly with me," Ginny whispered. She paused and tilted her head to listen for any sounds from upstairs.

"What about the kids?" Harry whispered back. They were sitting in the living room, Ginny's head resting in his lap as he read over case files from work. He set aside the file he was working on and peered down at her.

"They're sound asleep. They aren't little anymore, Harry. They'll be all right if we sneak out for an hour. Besides, we'll be nearby if they need us," she reasoned.

"I guess so…" he trailed off, still uncertain. She sat up and kissed him slowly before pulling away. He marveled that his lips still tingled every time she did that.

"Please?" she breathed. He found himself nodding before he could form a rational thought. She grinned.

"Your skills in persuasion are unfair," he pouted.

"Oh stop, it's not like you don't use the same tactics on me," she reminded him with a wink.

"Fair point," he ceded, gently pushing her up from his lap. She jumped up and he followed, pausing to stretch out his stiff joints.

"Old man," she teased.

"Hey, you're not much younger!" She stuck her tongue out at him.

"I'm still faster," she said, a familiar competitive gleam in her eyes.

"Oh, you are, are you?"

"Mm-hm." She was examining her nails unconcernedly.

"I think we're going to have to test that theory, because I'm not so sure," he drawled.

"Fine by me. Just don't be _too_ upset when I kick your arse."

"We'll see about that." He laughed quietly so as not to wake the kids and took her hand. Warm summer air greeted them as they stepped outside and grabbed their brooms.

"First one to that tree and back wins," Ginny stated, pointing to a tall tree towards the far end of their property. He nodded and they mounted their brooms.

"On three. One…two…three!"

They kicked off and began speeding towards the tree, neck and neck with each other. Harry pressed closer to his broom to gain speed, but Ginny was already inching ahead of him. She tossed a smug grin over her shoulder at him as she sped ahead and he narrowed his eyes in response. They were rapidly approaching the tree and Harry was finally gaining on Ginny, much to her displeasure.

He saw the muscles in her back tense and the concentrated blazing look on her face and smiled to himself. Even mid-race, he still couldn't help but admire her beauty. He mentally shook himself and concentrated. He was even with her now, but it was taking a lot of effort to remain so. Five seconds later, they reached the starting point and touched down with identical _thuds_. They hesitated and glanced at each other; neither could tell who had landed first.

"That was close, but I _definitely_ landed about a half-second before you," Ginny asserted confidently, her eyes daring him to contradict her.

"You did, did you? I didn't realize you had such keen powers of observation," he snorted. She placed her hands on her hips.

"Well, I do," she replied, but couldn't keep the laughter from her voice. "Fine, I really don't know who won," she relented.

"That's what I thought," he said smugly, pulling her into his arms and kissing the side of her head. "Call it a tie?"

"Fine, but I'm not happy about it," she groused, but she was smiling. He sighed happily and nudged her.

"Let's keep flying. We still have plenty of time and it's such a nice night," he suggested, glancing up at the bright stars overhead.

She agreed and they ascended into the air again, this time flying close together and slowly drifting their way around the property as they chatted about their days. Harry had never felt more normal, which, to him, was the best feeling in the world.


	3. Acceptance

A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Themed | Prompt: Acceptance | Word Count: 663

Acceptance

"Tuney! Oh, I'm so happy to see you; I've missed you so much! How have you been?" Lily gushed, engulfing Petunia in a tight hug before releasing all but her hands, which she grasped in her own as she searched Petunia's face. Her enthusiasm only irritated Petunia and she gave Lily a false smile.

"Oh, just wonderful! I made so many friends and I got top marks in my classes. Mum and dad were so pleased," Petunia replied smugly.

"That's great, Tuney! I'm so happy for you," Lily said earnestly as she squeezed Petunia's hands and smiled warmly at her. The corners of Petunia's mouth tightened and she removed her hands from Lily's grasp. A look of concern flitted across Lily's face before she returned to smiling, albeit with less enthusiasm than before. "Is everything all right, Tuney?" she asked.

"Yes, of course!" lied Petunia. Lily examined her face for a moment then nodded, apparently satisfied with whatever she saw there.

"Good. We have so much catching up to do! I can't wait to hear all about your year and oh, I have so much to tell you. You'll never believe all the amazing things I've learned!"

Petunia fought back a grimace as Lily prattled on about her beloved school. How could she even pretend to be happy for her sister when, though she would never admit it aloud, her own rejection from entering the magical world still stung as acutely as it had the day she had received the letter from Dumbledore?

He had informed her only a few years ago that Hogwarts was for those with magical abilities only, and that she, unfortunately, had none. It was her greatest shame, and she had honestly tried to quell her jealousy of Lily at first, but the resentment had built up inside of her until it was all she could do just to be in her sister's presence. Eventually she convinced herself that she did not even want to be a witch, and that to be a witch was to be a freak. Deep down, she knew it was wrong, but it was the only way she could cope with the feeling that she would forever be in her sister's shadow. No matter what she did, nothing could ever be as interesting and remarkable as magic.

* * *

Nearly forty years later, Petunia found herself sitting beside the graves of James and Lily Potter. The frosty air stung her skin and the snow under her knees bit through the material of her pants, but she didn't give her discomfort much thought. Tears fell thick and fast into her lap as she stared at her sister's name engraved in the stone.

"I'm so sorry, Lily," she whispered brokenly. "For everything."

She wished she could take back all the cold silences and hostile words she had exchanged with her sister before her death, and the disrespect she had shown her even afterwards. She had long ago accepted that she was not magical and never would be, but it had still been too late. She couldn't even find it in herself to want magic anymore. It had taken Lily, after all, although Petunia had lost her long before her death through no fault but her own. She wiped hastily at her eyes and sniffed, the sound harsh against the muted softness of the snowy morning.

Shame burned through her as she realized that this was not only the first time she had visited her sister's grave, but also the first time she had truly grieved her death. Time had given Petunia perspective, and she now realized that magic had never really set Lily so far apart from her. Lily had never cared for the spotlight. Petunia, in her blind jealousy, had failed to realize that she had what Lily had wanted more than anything: a full life with her husband and son. She let out a short, humorless laugh.

"You should've had that, too," she said quietly.


	4. Of Werewolves and Love

A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Drabble | Prompt: "Stop being so dramatic," | Word Count: 511

Of Werewolves and Love

"I'm sorry—really, I am. You have no idea how much…but we can't be together. It's too dangerous. You deserve better." Remus said, his face unreadable.

He and Tonks were standing in the dim lighting of the kitchen in Grimmauld Place. The house was silent but for the creaking of the floorboards as Remus shifted his weight and the frustrated huff that Tonks gave at his words.

"Oh, stop being so dramatic," Tonks replied exasperatedly.

"Dora, I mean it. I can't give you a normal life. You'll be shunned from our society for being with me…hell, I can't even get a job to provide for you or a—a family—" he flushed and broke off. "I'm not even sure it's possible for us to _have_ a family. And I could hurt you. I can't even bear to think about it. I'm too dangerous. We can't," he finished quietly, his expression detached.

"That's a load of rubbish and you know it, Rem! Just because _you're_ scared doesn't mean that _I_ am. I don't care about being shunned. You and I both know that we have plenty of people that love and support us despite your furry little problem. And you don't need to provide for us because, in case you hadn't noticed, I have quite a decent job and can provide for us on my own. There are precautions we can take to keep me safe during that time of the month, Remus, you _know_ that! As for the family…well, there are other options, Rem. It really doesn't bother me. None of it does. I just want to spend my life with you," she responded fiercely.

Remus was shaking his head but she quickly placed her hands on his face and forced him to look her in the eyes. She could see his indecision, and underneath that, his longing. She stood on her toes and kissed him gently.

"This doesn't have to be difficult, Rem. You deserve to be happy. _We_ deserve to be happy," she whispered.

"I'm scared," he admitted, his voice barely audible. She nodded and took his hands in her own.

"I know. I'll be brave enough for the both of us. Although you _are_ the Gryffindor, so you should probably pluck up some courage, too," she teased. He smiled despite himself.

"You really want this?" He searched her face skeptically.

" _Yes,_ I really do! If you had only listened the last thousand or so times I've said that, you would know that by now." She rolled her eyes and pulled him closer before continuing, "Now kiss me."

Remus smiled and she could see the love written on every line of his face as he brought his head down and kissed her tenderly. He broke away after an immeasurable amount of time and brought his forehead to rest against hers.

"Thank you," he breathed.

"Yes, well, _someone_ had to talk some sense into you. Honestly, Rem, it was getting ridiculous." They laughed together and, despite the impending war, they were both filled with a renewed sense of hope.


	5. Professor Sprout

**A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Themed | Prompt: Professor Sprout | Word Count: 636**

Pomona Sprout's soft, tuneless humming filled the greenhouse as she sat tending to her plants. The sun was shining down cheerily, its light dancing off the bright green leaves of the freshly planted Mandrakes. She cast a quick cooling charm over herself to counteract the beads of sweat that were quickly forming on her neck. While she enjoyed the sunny weather, it could make the heat of the greenhouse quite unbearable at times.

Her thoughts drifted beyond the greenhouse and settled on the cozy little cottage in England where she had lived what felt like a lifetime ago. She still remembered with vivid clarity the fresh, clean smell of lavender and linen that greeted her upon entry, the soft blue of the walls, and the life and love that had filled it and made it home. Bittersweet memories played out in her mind: the gentle embrace of her husband after a tiring day, laughter that filled the house as they cooked together, quiet evenings spent reading in the small study, warm hands caressing the slight swell of her rapidly growing stomach, the promise of love and family that had hung almost tangibly in the air.

Tears stung in her eyes and her breath hitched as she thought about all that she had lost. It wasn't often that she allowed her thoughts to stray to such upsetting subjects, but she couldn't stop the flow of memories or the aching in her chest. For she also remembered quite clearly the raw and vicious pain that came with the halted growth of her stomach and the broken promise that it represented. She remembered the emptiness and the suffocating grief when, not long after, she lost her husband and their beloved cottage had ceased to be a home.

She sucked in another unsteady breath and wiped at the tears lingering in the corners of her eyes as she cast about in her mind for more positive thoughts. She was far from unhappy with her life at Hogwarts—in fact, it had saved her in many ways. It had become her home—her colleagues had become akin to family, and she had found a distinct pleasure and purpose in teaching. Her many years at Hogwarts had been incredibly healing, and for that she would always be grateful. Still, she could not help the creeping loneliness that tugged at her heart from time to time.

A hesitant knock tore her from her thoughts and she mentally shook herself before looking up.

"Professor Sprout?" Neville stood at the greenhouse entrance, his slackened fist still resting on the door frame.

"Oh! Yes—quite sorry, dear. It must have slipped my mind that you would be coming soon." Pomona gestured to the stool across from her. "Sit, sit!"

Neville smiled and hurried to join her. "How are the Mandrakes doing?"

"They're coming along very nicely. Almost at the teenage phase, so there will be quite a bit of work to be done, but I think we'll do just fine," she replied contentedly. "Now, tell me about this special plant of yours."

She smiled fondly at Neville as he launched into a discussion about his Mimbulus Mimbletonia. It was rare that she felt such a strong connection to a student. Of course, she cared for all her students, but she had a definite soft spot for the shy boy who had become her mentee and quiet companion. She had been more than happy to take him under her wing when he had requested it, but she had not foreseen the nearly maternal affection that she would come to feel for him. Neither of them had much in the way of real family, but she was beginning to realize that there were different kinds of family, and that perhaps she was not as alone as she thought.


	6. The Couch

**A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Drabble | Prompt: A couch | Word Count: 625**

Harry stood in the unusually full living room of Number 4, Privet Drive for what he hoped would be the last time. He was amused, not only by the sheer number of people crammed into the space, but also by the fact that they were by far the most abnormal group of people the house had ever seen. He fought laughter as he imagined the looks on his relatives' faces if they could see their guests. Fred and George wore calculating expressions as they made their way around the room, prodding at various objects. Arthur was doing the same, although he wore an expression of utmost curiosity and awe. Bill, Fleur, Tonks, and Moody stood in a corner of the room discussing strategy while Moody casually swirled his magical eye in a glass of water. Mundungus was next to Hagrid, who was crouched down and chatting amiably, although Mundungus' shifting eyes suggested that he was not really listening. Ron and Hermione sat casually on each of the couch's arms—he gave a short laugh as he imagined the look of horror on his aunt's face—as they talked with Remus and Kingsley, who were sitting on the couch.

Harry stared at the couch and its occupants for longer than necessary. He found it both amusing and irritating that they could all sit there freely when he, who had lived there for all his life, had never been able to. The couch had been one of the many places that was off-limits to him, reserved only for those who were welcome. Even now, with no one around to scold him, he couldn't bring himself to sit on the couch. He wasn't sure if it was out of habit or spite, but he found he didn't much care what the reason was. All that he felt in that moment was a brief but sickening sense of rejection. When the moment passed, he was left with surprise; he did not expect it to still bother him. He had long ago accepted the Dursleys and his situation for what they were, so he was disconcerted to find even a piece of him that still cared—especially about the _couch,_ of all things.

"Harry, mate, get over here!" Ron called, giving him an odd look. Harry supposed he must have looked strange standing silently by the stairs, so he mentally shook himself and joined them, though his movements were slightly stiff.

Kingsley announced that he had some logistics to discuss with Moody and heaved himself off the couch. Hermione, Ron, and Remus looked at Harry expectantly as he stood awkwardly in front of the couch, staring at the lurid and impeccably kept floral-printed upholstery. He took a cautious step towards the couch and slowly lowered to perch on the edge of the cushion. His back remained completely straight and his muscles were tensed as if ready to leap up and flee at any moment. Remus and Hermione were now looking at him concernedly, while Ron simply looked bemused. Ron looked as if he would comment on Harry's strange behavior, but Hermione spoke before he had the chance.

"So, anyways, Harry, we were discussing some interesting new defense strategies that Kingsley's been working on with the aurors…" she began, and they were soon immersed in discussion. Harry gave her a grateful smile, to which she replied with her own small smile and a discreet nod.

As they talked, Harry slowly relaxed back into the cushions, and, after a while, he forgot that he wasn't supposed to belong there. He thought perhaps he shouldn't feel quite so smug for simply sitting on a couch, but there was such a distinct sense of defiance in the act that he couldn't help but grin.


	7. Torch

**A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Short story | Prompt: Flashlight/torch | Word Count: 1104**

Daylight was quickly fading as Ginny wandered aimlessly through the Burrow's grounds. Brilliant hues of orange and pink filled the sky, but she scarcely noticed. She had not been able to focus on much of anything through the worry that had clouded her mind for the past week. Everyone had been on edge since Harry, Ron, and Hermione had disappeared during the attack at Bill and Fleur's wedding. There was a stillness to the air that made it seem as though the Burrow itself was waiting for their return with bated breath.

She was torn from her thoughts as she came to an abrupt halt in front of her father's shed, which she had been about to run into. It had not been her intention to stop by the shed, but now that she was there she realized that she could really use her father's calming presence. She knocked lightly on the weathered wood before slowly pushing the door open. Her dad was sitting at his work bench tinkering with some muggle item, but at her entrance he looked expectantly towards the door. A soft smile lit his face when he saw it was her and she felt a rush of affection for him.

"Hey, Dad," she greeted, and her smile came naturally for the first time that week.

"Well, this is a pleasant surprise! To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked.

"I was feeling a bit restless so I decided to take a walk and ended up here," she replied honestly as she approached the work bench to join him. He pulled a chair up next to him and patted it.

"Have a seat, then—we can be restless together," he said simply. It was one of the things she loved most about her dad—he didn't pry and he didn't try to dismiss her feelings with empty words. If she needed to talk, he always gave the best advice. If she didn't, he was also an exceptional silent companion.

She peered down at his current project, but she didn't recognize the muggle object. It was a bright red plastic cylinder with a switch towards the end, which was slightly wider than the rest of the tube and had a smooth, clear top. A cap with a silver spring attached sat next to it. She bent her head to peek inside the empty tube and saw more silver. Her dad also had several different batteries—a term she had learned years ago when her father had first discovered them—lined up along the table.

"What are you working on?" she asked, puzzled. While she didn't have quite as much enthusiasm for muggle things as her father, she was still interested in learning about them.

"This is what the muggles call a torch," he explained excitedly, "Once you put the batteries in, you flip the switch and it _lights up!_ Amazing, what these muggles can do!" She smiled indulgently at him.

"Oh, yeah, Harry told me about those," Ginny said without thinking. It stung to say his name, but she didn't have time to dwell on her feelings, as her father had raised his eyebrows and was looking at her with mild surprise.

"I didn't realize you and Harry were close," he replied. He was fighting a smile and she quickly ducked her head to avoid his probing gaze. She usually had a very good poker face, but she could never quite manage it around her dad.

"Oh, we're not," she lied, but he just smiled knowingly at her.

"Ah, I see. Well, forgive my presumption," he began, but his eyes were serious when he gently continued, "I just thought you might like to talk about it if you were. I imagine it would be very hard to have someone…close to you…go missing."

"Yeah, it is—er, _would_ be." The words had once again escaped unbidden, and she hoped that he had missed her slip-up. He hadn't.

"Well, in any case, I believe they will all be fine. I think those three could pull off just about anything," he chuckled, but she could hear his underlying concern. She picked up one of the smaller batteries and rolled it in her palm.

"I know…I just wish there was a way to know they're safe. That's the worst part—having to wonder all the time," she replied, her burning eyes fixed determinedly on the battery in her hand.

He nodded solemnly before responding, "Yes, that part is very difficult. I would be lying if I said I wasn't almost out of my mind with worry…but I just have to believe that they will return." There was an edge of desperation to his voice as he finished speaking and she knew he understood what she was feeling completely. He picked up the torch and examined the inside for a moment. "Would you hand me the two large batteries next to you?"

She handed him the batteries and watched in silence as he slid them into the tube. He replaced the cap and flicked the switch, but nothing happened. He frowned and unscrewed the lid, dumping the batteries onto the table. As he looked at the items in front of him, he seemed to have a moment of realization and he replaced the batteries, this time in the opposite direction. He nodded in satisfaction and held the torch out to her.

"Would you like to do the honors?"

She took the torch from him and flipped the switch, illuminating the previously dimly lit shed. Her dad was grinning madly and his excitement was so infectious that she couldn't help but smile with him.

"Amazing! Can you believe it?" he exclaimed.

"How do they come up with these things?" she asked, shaking her head.

"Truly ingenious, muggles are!" He took the torch and turned it off, then looked directly into the light source as he turned it back on. She laughed as he flinched back from the sudden assault of bright light and hurried to turn it back off.

"Don't blind yourself, Dad," she advised him affectionately. She yawned, and only then did she realize just how tired she was.

"Why don't you get to bed early? No offense, but you look knackered."

"None taken. Night, Dad." She rose and hugged him tightly, trying to express her gratitude for him with the gesture.

"It's okay to worry, Ginny, just don't let it consume you. Let yourself hope."

His parting words left her feeling significantly lighter as she returned to the house, and, as she drifted off to sleep, her mind was filled with hopes for the future.


	8. Escape

**A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Theme | Prompt: Anger | Word Count: 769**

George was sick of the sympathetic looks, the covert glances, the hushed asides, the soft tones—he just wanted to be treated normally. But nothing would ever be normal again, and he wasn't sure exactly what the new normal was supposed to be. He just knew it wasn't this. The pain of loss was still raw, but it wasn't for a lack of his efforts to heal. He had, in fact, tried many times to move on, but it was hard to do when everyone treated him as if he were terminally ill. Every time someone spoke to him in that gentle voice or gave him one of those _looks_ , he felt as though they were dictating how he should feel, which then led to guilt if he was feeling better than they expected. The constant reminders made it nearly impossible for his wounds to heal. Not that he needed reminders. The death of his twin would always haunt him—it was the one thing he was absolutely sure of.

A soft knock on the door snapped him out of his reverie. He glanced warily at the door as it opened to reveal his mother. He tensed and sunk deeper into his bed covers.

"Good morning, Georgie. How are you feeling?" she asked, her voice saturated with concern. It made his skin crawl.

"Fine," he snapped. She recoiled, and he felt a brief stab of regret, but it was quickly drowned out by his anger. He knew she loved him and was worried, but he couldn't stand the suffocating sympathy anymore. She quickly rallied and tried again, though.

"Are you sure, dear? It's okay to be upset." If he had had any control over his temper before, he immediately lost it at those words.

"I _know_ it's okay! But do you know what else just might be okay? _Not_ being upset! If only you lot would let me!" He threw his covers off and stormed out of the room, not even bothering to put his shoes on.

He ignored the surprised looks of his family members as he made his way through the house and left through the back door. It didn't matter that he didn't have anywhere to go; he just needed to get away, to escape from his family—his wonderful family—if only for a little while. Once he reached the end of the wards, he apparated to the first place that came to mind.

He arrived with a loud _crack_ and looked up at their—now only his—store, which had been abandoned during the war. Now, six months after the war, he was ready to at least go inside. The street was packed with people bustling between shops, so he carefully pushed his way through them and placed his hand on the door handle hesitantly. It would be a lie to say he wasn't afraid of what he would feel once inside, but he summoned all his strength and slowly opened the door. He hadn't known what to expect, but he was still surprised to see the damage. It looked like the Death Eaters had ransacked the place—broken bottles and burnt parchment littered the ground, shelves were knocked into each other, and a thick layer of dust covered the shop.

George made his way around the room as he took inventory of everything that needed to be fixed, but he stopped short at the sight of a picture frame lying face down at his feet. He already knew what the frame held, but that made it more difficult to pick up. He did bend down to pick it up, though, and he carefully turned it around so that he could see it. Through the web of broken glass, he saw himself and Fred grinning back at him. They wore identical mischievous looks and seemed to be plotting something. It felt like it had been both just yesterday and a lifetime ago that they had been together like that. George closed his eyes against the welling tears and clutched the frame tighter. Once he regained some of his composure, he reopened his eyes, slid the photo from the broken frame, and tucked it in his pocket.

"Well, Fred, you've left me a right mess to sort out," he joked to himself half-heartedly, but he was pleased to find it didn't hurt as much to say his name anymore. Saying his name and talking to him now felt comforting and kept his memory alive. He still had a long way to go, but, for once, he felt like he was finally beginning to truly heal.


	9. Jumper

A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Short Story | Prompt: Jumper | Word Count: 969

Ginny stood at the kitchen sink washing dishes the muggle way; Harry was away on an auror mission and she needed something to keep her busy to keep her worry at bay. She was drying a plate when she caught a glimpse of something silvery from the corner of her eye. Her heart sank when, as she turned to get a better look at it, she saw that it was the fox Patronus that belonged to Harry's boss. She held her breath as it began to speak.

"Mrs. Potter, Harry was injured during the mission and has been taken to Saint Mungo's for spell damage."

Ginny leaned against the counter weakly and tried to gather her thoughts. She wished she had more information, particularly concerning the severity of Harry's injuries, but she would have to wait until she got to Saint Mungo's to find out. On her way to the Floo, she spotted Harry's jumper on the couch. She quickly grabbed it before throwing down the Floo powder and stating her destination. A few dizzying moments later, she arrived in the lobby and hurried to the front desk.

"Hello, I'm here for Harry Potter. I'm his wife," she said breathlessly. The receptionist gave her an odd look, and Ginny realized she had probably recognized her as Harry Potter's wife without her saying so. The receptionist smiled at her sympathetically, and Ginny clutched Harry's jumper closer to her chest.

"Yes, dear, he's in room 409 on the fourth floor, Spell Damage Ward. He should be ready for visitors."

Ginny made her way to the lift, biting her pinky nail as it took her up. Once the doors finally opened, she rushed into the hall and began searching for room 409. Thankfully, it was a short search and she pushed the door open, her eyes immediately snapping to her husband's sleeping form. She let out a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding as she examined him.

He didn't appear to have any major external injuries, and he seemed to be sleeping peacefully. She approached his bedside quietly and sat in the visitor chair, pulling it close so that she could reach up and brush his hair aside lightly with her fingertips. He smiled in his sleep and she smiled with him before her attention was broken by the entrance of a healer. He offered her a warm smile and held his hand out, which she took.

"Mrs. Potter, I assume? I'm Harry's healer, Jack Harris."

"Please, call me Ginny. How is he?" she asked with a worried glance at Harry.

"Well, he was in pretty rough shape when he came in. The spell that was used on him causes internal bleeding, but we were able to stop it and he's stable now. We just want to keep him here for another day or so just to make sure there aren't any complications," he replied, his tone calm and comforting.

"Thank you," she replied, her voice betraying the depth of her emotion. He smiled and nodded before leaving her to visit with Harry in private. She took his hand and he slowly opened his eyes. He looked over at her and gave her a sheepish grin.

"You promised you would come back to me safely," she admonished. She tried to look stern, but she couldn't help but smile at his contrite expression.

"Well, I am safe and back with you now, so, ultimately, I kept my promise," he said, and she let it slide, simply happy to have him back. She brought her hand up to cup his cheek and he leaned into her touch, closing his eyes.

"I missed you," she whispered.

"Me, too," he replied. She shifted up onto the bed to lay next to him and he took her in his arms, wincing slightly at the motion. They were face-to-face and now that she was closer, she could see he had a new small scar on his cheek, and she traced her finger over it. He had bags under his eyes and was slightly pale.

"You look exhausted. Try to get some sleep," she said, running her fingers through his hair. He nodded, but the jumper that was squeezed between them caught his attention. He reached for it, giving her a puzzled look.

"Is this my jumper from your mum?"

"Yeah," she admitted, blushing. "It's comforting. I like to wear it when you're away, and since I didn't know what state you'd be in when I got here, I thought I should bring it just in case I needed some comfort."

"That's adorable," he teased, but she could tell he was touched.

"Shut it," she muttered, nudging him lightly. "Go to sleep," she added gently.

He closed his eyes obediently and she listened as his breathing slowed. Once she was sure he was asleep, she carefully extricated the jumper from his hands and pulled it over her head before settling back against Harry. She ran her hands over the soft fabric and smiled, finally content now that he was safe. The jumper was from the Christmas Harry had been on the run during what should have been his seventh year at Hogwarts. Her mother had still knitted jumpers for Harry, Ron, and Hermione in the hopes that they would return home for Christmas. When they hadn't returned, Ginny took the one meant for Harry and began to wear it around the house and then under her robes when she returned to Hogwarts.

Even after Harry returned, she still wore it to bed occasionally. Now, she always kept it nearby when he was away. Harry shifted in his sleep, snapping her out of her thoughts. She moved closer so she could kiss his forehead before resting against his chest and drifting off to sleep. All was well again.


	10. Finding Strength

**A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Themed | Prompt: "You will stay here until I give you permission to leave," | Word Count: 529**

"Boy!"

Harry instinctively shrunk back into the corner of his cupboard. Thundering footsteps grew louder and dust from the ceiling settled around him. He drew a shaky finger through the white particles that now covered his worn blanket in an attempt to distract himself from his quickening heartbeat and the thin layer of sweat that had formed on his palms. He brought the dust-covered pad of his finger close to his face to examine it with forced interest, but it was no use. His panic took over and he began to go through a mental list of wrongdoings he had committed, intentionally or not, that would warrant Vernon's current state of rage, but he couldn't think of anything that stood out. Admittedly, it did not take much to make Vernon angry with him; in fact, he seemed to _always_ be angry with Harry to varying degrees.

The door slammed open and Vernon appeared, face red with fury and fists clenched at his sides.

"Why have we gotten another letter from your teacher about odd behavior?" His voice was quiet, almost as though he was afraid of his own words, but his tone was drenched in malice nonetheless.

Harry averted his eyes—he knew what the letter must have been about. Just two days ago, he had been working quietly by himself at school when Dudley and Piers approached him and began taunting him. When the teacher's back was turned, Dudley snatched Harry's project from his desk and ripped it up. Before Harry could respond, he felt a surge of anger and both Dudley and Piers were suddenly and inexplicably forced back as if they had been pushed. At the time, Harry had laughed at the expressions of shock and fear on their faces, but he should have known the incident would not go unnoticed.

He glanced back up at Vernon, whose fury had not diminished in the slightest. He watched his clenched fists warily and tried to swallow his fear. He was tired of cowering.

"I don't know," he replied, straightening his shoulders and meeting Vernon's eyes defiantly. He thought he saw his Vernon's eye twitch.

"Don't take that tone with me," he growled. "Any more freakish behavior and you'll be without food for a month."

"Okay," Harry said flatly. Vernon's fists clenched and he let out a loud breath.

"You will stay here until I give you permission to leave," he ordered menacingly.

"Whatever you say," Harry replied, trying to sound unconcerned.

Vernon glared at him, seemingly deciding whether or not it was worth his time to argue further. His hatred of being around Harry won over his anger in the end and he left the cupboard, slamming the door behind him, making the walls vibrate with the impact.

Harry flopped back on his bed and rubbed a hand over his face wearily. He went over the confrontation in his mind and, for once, he found that he was pleased by how he handled it. He had found his strength and faced Vernon with confidence for the first time, and, now that he had, he decided that he would never again cower in the face of Vernon's anger.


	11. Torn

**A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Drabble | Prompt: Torn out pages | Word Count: 322**

Cho Chang sat cross-legged on the cold, hard floor of the Ravenclaw girls' dormitory, staring blankly at the journal that rested on her lap. Her vision blurred and her throat constricted painfully as she recalled the memories, thoughts, and dreams of Cedric that lay within it. She had written in it every day that they had been together, and though it had brought her comfort in the weeks following his death, she now only felt bitterness when she flipped through its pages.

A wave of frustration surged through her as she lifted the leather cover and began tearing the pages out, one by one at first, then in sections. She watched with satisfaction as the pages ripped unevenly, the jagged edges disrupting the flowery words that were written there. Soon, the journal only contained frayed strips of paper, and the floor around her was littered with its crumpled former contents. She gathered the scraps into a pile and pointed her wand at it, wordlessly setting it on fire, only feeling mildly surprised by her first successful nonverbal spell.

Cho looked dispassionately as the orange flames engulfed the mass of paper, slowly dissolving it into ash. She briefly thought that one day she might regret destroying the journal, but it was no use worrying about that now. With a flick of her wand, the flames vanished and the ashes settled on the floor, the last tangible evidence of Cedric destroyed. She thought that perhaps she ought to feel something, but she felt strangely removed from everything, almost as if nothing around her was real.

Cho pushed herself up off the floor, waving her wand once more to vanish the ashes before climbing into her bed. The light coming in through the windows had long faded, and she expected her dormmates would be coming up to bed soon. So she drew the curtains around her and stared at the ceiling, her mind blessedly blank.


	12. The Orphans

**A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Short Story | Prompt: "Hello. I knew your Dad," | Word Count: 1278**

It was mid-December, and for the first time, Teddy Lupin found himself at the annual Ministry Christmas Gala. He had thought it would be an exciting party, but it was proving to be quite a dull affair. They had been there for nearly two hours, and Teddy was dying to get out of there. He had come with Harry and Ginny, but Harry was being passed around the room by several boring-looking adults, and Ginny had left Teddy for a moment to use the loo after instructing him to stay close to people he knew. He was headed towards Ron when a loud voice caught his attention.

"Teddy Lupin!"

Teddy looked up at the man standing before him, startled. He did not recognize the time-weathered face or beady, bespectacled eyes that were intently fixed upon his face. He fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Hello," he offered uncertainly.

"Hello. I knew your Dad," the man began. Teddy rose his eyebrows, startled, but the man continued, "My name is Horace Slughorn, but, please, call me Horace. Yes, I knew both of your parents, actually. Very fine people; quite the heroes! I actually taught your father when he was not much older than you are now!"

He puffed his chest out as he said this, and something about his tone irritated Teddy. He scratched the side of his nose as he wracked his brain for something to say.

"Oh," he said lamely, "That's nice. I think my Godfather has mentioned you before," he added, but he regretted it immediately as Slughorn's eyes brightened and his smile grew impossibly wider.

"Ah, yes, your _Godfather!_ Of course, my good friend, Harry Potter," Slughorn said delightedly. Some heads turned towards his voice, which had risen considerably as he spoke of Harry.

Teddy bit back a groan, and he began to search the room for someone to save him. Spread throughout the room were various Weasleys and family friends, along with many others he had never seen before. Victoire stood patiently by her parents as they chatted with friends, although he could tell she was bored by the way she twirled her hair around her finger. He exchanged a smile with her as their eyes met before resuming his search.

He vaguely registered Slughorn's enthusiastic speech about Harry and kept his smile in place, nodding occasionally as his eyes wandered. Eventually he found the person he was looking for. As if she knew he was looking, she turned and looked first at him, then at Slughorn, and back to him. She gave him a sympathetic look and determinedly made her way over to them, her mouth set in a firm line.

"Horace, so good to see you!" she greeted cheerfully, but Teddy wasn't fooled. He knew his Godmother well enough to know that she was not, in fact, pleased to see Slughorn.

"Ginny Potter, what a delight it is to see you!" he nearly shouted. "I was just telling young Teddy here about how I knew his parents and Harry, of course." Ginny's eyes narrowed at this.

"How nice," she replied. To a passer-by, she would have sounded perfectly pleasant, but Teddy could hear the annoyed undertones to her voice. "I was just coming to get him. We should be getting home soon." Teddy brightened at this, although Slughorn looked as though he had been mortally wounded.

"Oh, no, stay! I haven't had a chance to catch up with you and Harry for ages!" he lamented. Ginny smiled sympathetically as she searched the room, presumably for Harry.

"I'm afraid we can't. We need to get James and Al from my parents and put them to bed. Al gets quite fussy when he doesn't go to bed on time—ah, there's Harry," she said, beckoning him over. Teddy followed her gaze and saw his Godfather walking towards them. Harry grimaced when he caught sight of their company, but quickly smiled as Slughorn turned to greet him.

"Harry, m'boy! It has been too long!"

"Not long enough," Harry muttered under his breath so that only Teddy and Ginny could hear, causing them both to laugh, although Ginny had the grace to cover it with a laugh.

"What was that?" Slughorn asked, looking between them bemusedly.

"Oh, just a bit of an inside joke," Harry said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I wish we could stay to chat, but we really should get going."

Teddy grabbed Ginny's hand and tugged gently. She placed her hand atop his head and he sighed and leaned into her, preparing himself for all the boring goodbyes they would have to make.

An hour later, they returned to the Potters' house with James and Albus. Molly and Arthur had fussed over the toddlers, not wanting them to leave, but Harry and Ginny had eventually persuaded the elder Weasleys to let them take the exhausted boys home.

Ginny, who held a sleeping Albus, started up the stairs, Harry following behind her with James. "Teddy, why don't you come help me with James, then we can get you settled," Harry called over his shoulder.

Teddy rushed up the stairs after Harry and followed him into James' room. Harry placed the three-year-old into his bed and pulled a soft green blanket around him. James yawned and closed his eyes.

"Night, Daddy. Night, Teddy," he mumbled, already half-asleep.

"Goodnight, James. I love you," Harry said, leaning down to kiss the boy's forehead.

"Night, Jamie," Teddy whispered as he followed Harry into the hallway.

They walked together into Teddy's room. While Teddy lived with his grandmother, he spent quite a bit of time at the Potters', so they had done up a room just for him when they bought the house. The walls were bright blue, his favorite color, and pictures and posters hung throughout the room.

He climbed into bed and Harry perched on the edge. "So, I see you've met Slughorn," Harry began.

"He said he knew my parents," Teddy confided, then paused.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. A lot of people say that. They say how they were great and heroes. It's nice, I guess…but, I dunno, it's kind of…," he trailed off, not exactly sure how to explain how he was feeling.

"Strange? Confusing?" Harry offered, a look of understanding on his face.

"Yeah. I guess you used to hear that, too, right? About your parents?" Teddy asked.

"Yeah. Still do, sometimes," he paused to examine Teddy's face. "You know, it's okay to be tired of hearing it. Merlin knows, I was, at times." Teddy looked up at him.

"How'd you know? It's not that I don't like hearing about them…it's just, it kind of sneaks up on me, sometimes, and I never really knew them…," he trailed off, his brow furrowed.

"I know because I've been through it, too. I understand how you're feeling, and I know how confusing it is. The people who talk about them mean well—they just want to share with you how wonderful your parents were. They just don't understand how strange it can be for you to hear."

"Yeah…usually it's okay, but that man was weird. He sounded like he was bragging or something." Harry laughed.

"That's Slughorn, for you. He likes to be connected to important people—and your parents were," Harry explained. "If he bothers you again, just come get me and I'll distract him. Deal?" he asked.

"Deal," Teddy replied, yawning.

"Now, off to bed with you," Harry said, watching as Teddy got under the covers.

"Night, Harry, and thanks."

"Good night, Teddy. You know you can talk to me any time," Harry said, turning off the lights with a flick of his wand and shutting the door behind him.


	13. Hush

**A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Themed (Love) | Prompts: "Shush! It's past midnight and you're going to get us caught!" | Word Count: 710**

"Shush! It's past midnight and you're going to get us caught!"

James, who was laughing unconcernedly as he tugged Lily down a deserted corridor, brushed off her complaint. Despite herself, Lily found herself laughing with him. They had been dating for a few weeks, and while she was getting used to James' spontaneity, she still had reservations about being out past curfew. Still, she had agreed to meet him that night—she was finding him increasingly impossible to resist.

"James! Come on, tell me where we're going," she demanded, pulling him to a halt. He turned and grinned at her.

"Now where's the fun in that? Relax, Evans. I promise it will be worth it—and if you're still worried about getting caught, I have this," he said, reaching into his cloak.

She watched curiously as he pulled some sort of shimmery fabric out. He unfolded it to reveal a cloak.

"Why do you have another cloak? And how is that supposed to keep us from getting caught?"

"Patience, Lily," James smirked. "This isn't just any cloak—it's an invisibility cloak." She raised her eyebrows at him.

"Where did you get one of these? I thought they were supposed to be rare," she replied skeptically.

"They are. This one's an old family heirloom," he explained, shrugging.

"So this is how you and your friends get away with everything. No cleverness or impressive magic—just a handy cloak," she drawled.

"You take that back, Evans! I assure you, there is plenty of cleverness and impressive magic involved in our schemes," he defended, lips twitching as he tried to maintain a look of indignation.

"You're so full of—" she broke off and froze as they heard a voice around the corner.

"Quick, put this on!" James said, offering her one end of the cloak.

They pulled the cloak around themselves, but it was a tight fit. Lily could feel James' breath on her hair and she flushed.

"Well, this is cozy," James joked breathlessly.

"Hush, I think someone's coming!" Lily whispered, though her blush deepened.

They looked down the corridor just as the owner of the voice appeared. It was Peeves, talking to himself as he tossed a Remembrall back and forth between his hands. They waited for him to pass, neither of them in the mood to deal with his antics. Once he was safely out of sight and earshot, James took Lily's hand and began leading her down the corridor once more, the cloak now only covering their backs.

"You really won't tell me where we're going?" Lily tried again.

"Not a chance. Besides, we're almost there."

After another few minutes of walking, they reached a familiar set of stairs. Lily kept silent as they walked up the stairs, but she wondered to herself why he had brought her here. James held the door at the top of the stairs open for her and she stepped out into the cool night air. She looked back at James, who stood a few steps behind her, his hands in his pockets. For once, he looked vulnerable.

"The Astronomy Tower?" Lily queried softly. James nodded, smiling sheepishly.

"Yeah. When I'm not using my impressive cleverness and magical abilities to pull pranks, I like to come up here sometimes. It's very relaxing. I thought you might enjoy it, too, since you like Astronomy so much," he admitted.

Lily was surprised; she had never told him she enjoyed Astronomy. She glanced up at the sky, which was clear and filled with millions of stars.

"It's beautiful," she said.

"Yeah," James replied, coming to stand beside her.

She took out her wand to conjure a blanket and sat, pulling James down next to her. They were quiet for a few minutes as they looked at the stars together. Lily had never seen this side of James before. She didn't think he even had a quiet, reflective side, but she found that it suited him just as much as his boisterous and confident side.

Lily glanced over at him and her breath caught at the peaceful expression on his face. He had never looked more handsome, and she suddenly found herself in uncharted territory as she realized that she was falling in love with James Potter.


	14. Tonks

**A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Themed | Prompt: Making a sandwich | Word Count: 596**

A resounding crash broke the silence of Grimmauld Place, waking those who were still clinging to the last moments of sleep before the day began. Tonks grimaced and picked up the coat stand she had just knocked over before carefully continuing her path to the kitchen.

She was humming as she cut a tomato for a sandwich when she heard someone approach behind her. Her first thought was to hope that it was Remus, but she pushed the thought and its accompanying butterflies aside.

"Thanks for the wake-up call, Nymphadora," Sirius drawled from the doorway. She spun to face him, pointing the knife threateningly at him.

"I'll let that slide this time since I woke you up, but watch it," she warned, eyes narrowed at him. He brushed off her threat with a chuckle and sat at the table in front of her, giving her a shrewd look.

"You look a bit put out. You weren't hoping to see someone else, were you? Perhaps a certain wolfish friend of mine?" he asked innocently, eyebrows raised.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," she replied evenly.

She turned her back to him and resumed cutting the tomato, though she did not miss the smirk he gave her. She brought the knife down with more force than she had intended, crushing the last slice of tomato.

"Sure, you do," Sirius said cheerfully. "Don't worry, your secret is safe with me. Although, truthfully, it's not much of a secret at this point. I don't think there's a person within a fifty-mile radius that doesn't feel the tension when the two of you are within twenty feet of each other."

Tonks threw the knife down and clenched her fists. "And how is any of this your business?"

"The happiness of my cousin and my best friend is naturally my business. Besides, I'm on your side, so there's really no reason to get testy with me. I think Remus is being ridiculous about this whole situation."

As Tonks thought about what to say, she placed two slices of bread on a plate and began piling on meat, cheese, and tomatoes. She wasn't sure if she should be candid with Sirius, but he knew Remus better than anyone else and she was growing tired of acting as though she felt nothing more than friendship with Remus. She bit into her sandwich aggressively and chewed, coming to a decision as she did so.

"Is there any chance that he'll stop being ridiculous any time soon?" She tried to keep the pleading tone out of her voice as she spoke and turned to face Sirius.

His smirk was gone, replaced with a look of sympathy. "I'm working on him, trust me. I think I'm starting to wear him down, so I think that there is a very good chance he'll come to his senses sooner or later," he reassured her.

"Has he always been this stubborn?" she asked.

"When it comes to protecting those he loves, yes, he has always been this stubborn," he replied, meeting her eyes. Her stomach lurched at the implication, but she kept her expression smooth.

"Oh. Well, if he could hurry up and get over that whole protective thing soon, that would be great, because it's kind of getting in the way of the love part," she grumbled.

"Patience, Nymphadora," Sirius advised, his eyes now filled with mischief.

She glared and threw an apple from the counter at him, but he had already ducked out of the room, his receding laughter now the only sound throughout the house.


	15. Aspen

**A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Themed | Prompt: Ministry of Magic | Word Count: 955**

"Potter!"

Harry's head snapped up at the sound of his boss's voice and he quickly closed the case file he had been reading. He stood and took a moment to stretch his aching back before making his way to the Head Auror's office. The door was already open, so he stepped inside, knocking on the door frame to announce his presence.

"Sir?" he asked.

"Yes, could you run this letter down to post? It's classified, and I don't want to risk it getting into the wrong hands," Auror Calloway explained, nodding his head towards a letter that was perched on the edge of his desk before returning his attention to the files in front of him.

"Sure," Harry replied, glad for the opportunity to stretch his legs.

There had been a lull in activity recently, which meant long, tedious days filled with paperwork and reports. He was itching to do something, no matter how small, although he had hoped for a little more excitement than letter delivery. Still, he grabbed the letter from Calloway's desk and walked down the hallway to the lift, slowing his pace once he was out of sight of the Auror office.

The lift opened and he stepped inside, followed by another ministry employee. Harry silently urged the lift to move faster as the young woman beside him stared openly at him. He pulled the sleeve of his robe between his thumb and forefinger and rubbed it, staring determinedly ahead. After several uncomfortable minutes, the lift opened to his destination and he hurried out, letting out a relieved sigh as he left his admirer behind.

The post room took up the majority of the floor, considering the hundreds of owls it housed. It was chaos, with owls flying in and out of the windows at random and people bustling around trying to manage the incoming and outgoing post. Harry spotted the drop-off desk and set down the letter as he waited for the man behind the counter to notice him. It didn't take long—as soon as the man turned his head and caught sight of Harry he dropped, quite literally, what he was doing. The owl he had been holding to tie a letter to ruffled its feathers in irritation at the man for dropping him and flew out one of the windows while the employee rushed over to Harry.

"Mr. Potter, how can I help you?" he breathed.

Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was still fairly new to the Ministry, and it was rare that he went a day without someone gawking at him. He hoped the attention would fade with time, but he wasn't sure how much more of it he could take.

"I just need this classified document sent out," he replied, pushing the sealed letter towards the man. He glanced quickly at his nametag, which read 'Steve'.

"Yes, yes, of course, you'll be needing one of our best owls, then. I'll get this taken care of for you, sir," he said.

Harry turned to leave, but as he did so, he caught sight of a familiar looking snowy owl. It was sitting on a perch away from the other owls and holding its wings in an odd position.

"What's wrong with this owl?" Harry asked.

"Oh, her? Broken wing. She'll never fly the same, even if it heals properly," Steve explained, shaking his head.

"So what's going to happen to her?"

"Dunno. Might have to put her down."

"What, just for a broken wing?" Harry asked incredulously. At the man's shrug, he continued, "Could I take her?" Steve raised his eyebrows at him.

"What do you want with an owl that can't fly properly? Ah, I guess it doesn't matter. Sure, take her," Steve said, waving his hand dismissively.

Harry grinned to himself. Steve's star-struck demeanor seemed to have disappeared at Harry's strange request, which suited him just fine.

"I'll be back to pick her up before I go home for the day," Harry promised before leaving to go back to the Auror office.

* * *

As Harry stepped out of the Floo, owl in tow, he realized that perhaps he should have discussed getting a pet with Ginny _before_ bringing one home. It was too late to reconsider, though, because she had just entered the room and spotted him. Her smile faded into a confused expression as her eyes shifted from his face to the owl perched on his arm.

"Harry, why do you have an owl?"

"Right. Well, she was a Ministry owl, but she's injured and they were thinking about putting her down, so I took her. Sorry for surprising you with this, I just couldn't leave her," he explained, watching her face to gauge her reaction.

"That's ridiculous! I'm glad you brought her home," she said, going over to him to stroke her feathers. "No one here is going to discriminate against you for being injured," she crooned to the bird. Harry chuckled.

"So you're not mad?"

"Of course not! I've been wanting to get an owl anyways, and she needs us," she said, looking thoughtfully at the owl. "You know, she reminds me a lot of Hedwig."

"I thought the same thing. Part of the reason I couldn't resist bringing her home," he admitted. Ginny smiled sympathetically at him.

"Does she have a name?"

"Not that I know of," he replied.

"Well, we'll come up with something," she said thoughtfully.

"As long as it's not Pigwidgeon," he teased, grinning cheekily at her.

"Hey, Pigwidgeon is a perfectly respectable name!" she said indignantly, slapping Harry's arm playfully.

"What about Aspen?" Harry offered. Ginny nodded her approval and the owl hooted happily. "Well, that settles it. Welcome to the family, Aspen."


	16. The Last Night

**A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Drabble | Prompt: James and Lily's final night | Word Count: 654**

Lily Potter leaned against the door frame that separated the kitchen from the sitting room, watching her husband and her son playing on the floor. She smiled; she didn't think her heart could be any fuller than it was at this moment. James picked Harry up and tossed him in the air, and the delighted boy erupted into a fit of giggles, clapping his chubby hands together.

A high-pitched whistle signaled that the water was ready for tea, and Lily quickly moved back into the kitchen to pour two cups, placing tea bags into each. She carefully carried the steaming mugs into the living room and handed one to James, who smiled at her in thanks. Harry reached his hand out to touch the mug, but James quickly pulled it out of reach.

"No, Harry, that's hot. See?" He touched the cup with one finger and immediately yanked it back, shaking it and making a face. "Ouch!"

Harry giggled and copied him, waving his hands around as if he, too, had been burned. Lily scooped him up and sat on the floor beside James, leaning against the sofa for support. They were quiet for a moment, sipping on their tea. Lily held Harry close to her chest as the sound of children's laughter outside drifted in. James looked longingly out the window and Lily placed her hand atop his, drawing his attention to her.

"We'll be okay. Hopefully we won't have to hide much longer," she said, doing her best to sound reassuring, although she felt no real conviction behind her words.

He leaned in to kiss first her cheek, then Harry's forehead. Harry's responding smile melted away their remaining worries and fears, bringing them back into the moment with their son.

"Maybe next Halloween we can dress you up and take you out," James crooned to Harry, tugging on one of his tiny sock-clad feet, bringing on another round of laughter from the boy.

Lily finished her tea and handed Harry to James, grabbing James' empty mug as she stood.

"I'm going to go clean up in the kitchen," she announced.

James nodded and shifted Harry in his arms, pulling out his wand to produce brightly colored puffs of smoke for Harry's entertainment. After several laughter-filled minutes, Lily reentered and took Harry back from James to put him to bed.

She sang softly to Harry as she made her way to his nursery, watching as his eyelids drooped. The old muggle tune never failed to soothe him, and by the time she placed him in his cot, he was already half asleep.

A loud _bang_ from downstairs interrupted her song and she jumped, fear gripping her heart and lungs like a vise. Harry was now wide awake, looking up at her in interest. When James' shouts reached her, telling her to take Harry and run, she knew that their worst fears had been realized.

She choked back a sob as James' voice was silenced with two words and patted her pockets, frantically searching for her wand. Coming up empty, she began moving furniture to block the door, though she knew it was futile. The stairs creaked as the intruder neared, and she could do nothing but pick Harry up and hold him close one last time, her voice shaking violently as she whispered words of love to him, tears tracking down her face.

The creaking on the stairs stopped, and there was a breath of silence before the door blasted open, sending the furniture sliding across the room. She placed Harry back in his cot and flung her arms wide, as if it would protect him from the deadly curse. The hooded figure drew closer and she met his eyes, begging for mercy, but it was no use. He leveled his wand at her and she could do nothing more than send up a silent prayer for her son before everything went black.


	17. Goodbye

A/N: House: Hufflepuff | Category: Themed | Prompt: Pensieve | Word Count: 549

Albus Dumbledore was tired. With each year he felt his age more acutely, and the past few years had been particularly taxing on his weathered body and mind. He had expected Tom Riddle to return, but he had not anticipated the toll it would take on him. His reflexes were not as quick as they used to be and his mind had lost some of the sharpness that it was so well known for. He looked down regretfully at his blackened hand, which only served to remind him of this.

Soon, his time would be up, but he wasn't too concerned about that; he trusted Harry to fulfill his duty after he was gone. What he _was_ concerned about was giving Harry the knowledge he needed to succeed, which was why he spent much of his limited time with Harry in the pensieve. More than that, though, he wanted Harry to have closure when it was all over. Perhaps it was his guilt for placing such a burden on the boy's shoulders that made him so desperate to make it up to him in some way, but, whatever the reason, he was determined to do this for Harry.

Fawkes appeared in a brilliant burst of flame and Albus's eyes shifted to focus on the bird, who gazed back at him steadily and let out a low, musical sound that soothed him down to his bones. He sighed, looking out the window to find that the sky was already glowing orange as the sun dipped below the horizon, its rays skimming across the lake. He watched the students on the grounds below and felt a pang when he spotted a familiar mop of messy black hair accompanied by a long orange mane. In his many years of knowing and watching Harry, he had never seen him quite as happy as he was with Ginny Weasley, which made it even more painful knowing that Harry's newfound happiness would soon be overtaken by his duties.

Not for the first time, Albus wished that things could be different and that the boy he had come to care so much for could be allowed to have a normal, safe, and happy life. However, Albus had learned early in his life not to dwell on such thoughts, so, mentally shaking himself, he tightened his grip on his wand and brought the tip to his temple and concentrated.

Memories filled his mind—James and Sirius laughing at a prank they had pulled on him while he tried to look stern, conversations with Lily in his office, James and Lily getting married, James and Lily proudly introducing him to their son. He stood there for several minutes, collecting dozens of memories of James, Lily, and their friends before drawing his wand away from his head. A silver thread now clung to the tip of his wand and he carefully placed it into a vial he had set aside, labelled _For Harry Potter_.

He set the vial in a box, which would be deposited, along with his pensieve, into Harry's vault for him to find when he needed it most. It was all he could offer Harry, a parting gift of sorts, as he knew he would not be able to say goodbye to him before he passed.


End file.
